


Harry's Bitch

by all_not_well



Series: Harry's Bitch [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bestiality (Implied), Dark!Harry, Humiliation, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_not_well/pseuds/all_not_well
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco had no idea how he'd come to be stuffed in a too-small dog crate in somebody's cozy-looking kitchen, but he had a terrible feeling that something far worse than Azkaban loomed in his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> I meant it to be kinky, but the end result just didn't turn out that way.

Draco didn't know how long he crouched naked on the hard plastic tray while thin, cold steel bars pressed against him on all sides. Long enough for his knees to bruise, his bladder to cramp with the need to piss, and his mouth to go thoroughly dry with fear. The last thing he could remember was his cold, damp cell in Azkaban. He had no idea how he'd come to be stuffed into a too-small dog crate in somebody's cozy-looking kitchen, tucked away into a corner where the heat from the crackling fire couldn't quite reach.

He'd made a single attempt, when he'd first woken up to find himself in his current predicament, to undo the deceptively simple latches on the crate door. The moment his fingers had crept through the bars, however, the thick leather collar around his neck had delivered a stinging shock that left him mewling and quivering on the crate floor for long minutes afterward.

He didn't try again.

A few days ago, he would've said that anything had to be better than Azkaban. Now he began to believe that something far, far worse than the wizarding prison loomed in his future.

~*~

Draco wasn't sure whom he'd expected to find as his new jailer - a former Death Eater, perhaps, looking to punish Draco for his failings, or a victim seeking revenge for whatever wrongs Draco's family might have done in the war. He wouldn't have put it past Weasley, for example: one brother dead, another scarred for life, and himself a victim - however temporarily - of Draco's own poison. Or Longbottom, who'd suffered through enough torture in their horrible seventh year at Hogwarts to conceivably leave him mentally unhinged.

But the last person he expected to see walk into the kitchen was the bleeding Savior himself, Harry _fucking_ Potter.

Potter didn't acknowledge Draco, or even glance in Draco's direction. Instead he headed for the old-fashioned stove to light a fire and put the kettle on the hob.

Despite his better judgment, Draco felt a thin thread of hope uncoil in his chest. Potter had saved his life once before when he'd had no real reason to do so. Surely _he_ wasn't the one who'd brought Draco to this place - Potter had never been the type to look for petty revenge. He was the quintessential do-gooder Gryffindor Golden Boy, after all. So someone must've been playing a trick of some kind, either on Draco, or Potter, or both at once. But Potter would sort it all out, surely.

Maybe Potter could even finagle Draco's early release, if Draco played his cards right. No doubt the Ministry would be happy to give the savior of the wizarding world any bloody thing he asked for, even something as big as the release of a convicted Death Eater. And Draco wasn't a Slytherin for nothing: he knew how to play the political game, how to influence people, how to bring them around to his point of view. He hadn't been able to turn things in his favor at his trial - not with anti-Death Eater sentiment at an all-time high just after the war's end, and the Wizengamot bearing down hard on anyone with a Mark. But Potter was just one man, and a gullible Gryffindor to boot. Potter would be putty in Draco's hands. Potter would see things made right for him.

Silenced reigned for long moments, while Draco waited for Potter to turn at any moment and discover him, and Potter quietly rummaged in the cupboard until he withdrew a packet of store-bought Muggle biscuits.

By the time the kettle began to shriek, Draco's patience had worn thin. He waited until Potter silenced the kettle, then he hunched even lower in the crate, shifting a bit to rattle the plastic tray, and allowed a pathetic moan to escape his lips. Potter had always had a thing for saving people; surely the safest course would be to appeal to Potter's sympathy.

Potter, however, didn't so much as turn to look at Draco. He calmly measured out his tea leaves and poured the steaming water. Draco was still considering his next move when Potter finally spoke.

"I do hope you've enjoyed your last day as a man," Potter said, his tone cool and clinical as he half-turned to glance in Draco's direction. 

Draco blinked, his befuddled brain struggling to process what he'd heard.

"My - what?"

Draco's voice was rusty with disuse, and the words came out as little more than a whisper. But Potter smiled as if he'd heard them all the same, thin lips curving in a cold, cruel twist that sent a shudder down Draco's spine.

"From this day forward," Potter said, ignoring Draco's question, "you are my new pet. My familiar. My _bitch_." Potter spat out the word with more venom than Draco would have ever expected to hear coming from the Golden Boy. His spoon clanked against the sides of the mug as he stirred sugar into his tea.

"Do not expect to be treated or acknowledged as a human being ever again," Potter continued, "not by me or by anyone else you should encounter. I will expect your perfect attention and obedience at all times. Disobedience will be severely punished."

"You're mad," Draco whispered, as his new-fledged hope withered and died. "Completely insane."

"Am I?" Potter looked over at Draco then, his green eyes blazing with a sudden, icy fury. "Ron Weasley is dead," Potter stated flatly. "Did you know? Just twenty-three years old, in the prime of his life, happily looking forward to the imminent birth of his first child...and he suddenly drops dead of a heart attack in his brother's shop. And do you know _why_?"

Draco's insides twisted; he dropped his head to shield himself from that penetrating gaze. He suspected he did know why. And what's more, he knew that he was well and truly fucked: worse than having had Voldemort living in the Manor; worse than Azkaban; worse than the guards' mocking laughter as they informed him of his father's Kiss.

"The Healers say his heart was weakened years ago. By the poison that _you_ brewed, Malfoy, in our sixth year. I thought I'd saved Ron's life the night he drank your poisoned mead, but in the end it turns out you've killed him just the same. The damage was done before I ever shoved the bezoar down his throat."

Potter picked up his mug in one hand and his wand in the other, then padded over to Draco's crate, his bare feet slapping gently against the flagstones. He crouched down, his denim-clad crotch at a level with Draco's face, so close to the crate that the steam from his tea wafted across Draco's skin. The rich, smoky scent of lapsang souchong set Draco's mouth to watering immediately. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been permitted to partake of the warmth and comfort of a simple cup of tea.

"So what I am, _Bitch_ , is fucking well _furious_ with you right now."

Potter paused long enough to take a careful sip of his cooling tea.

"But I figure," he added in a more conversational tone, "that since you've cost me my best mate, you'll just have to become my new, faithful, and very _obedient_ companion. Your worthless life is a pitiful exchange for his, I know, but I must say I'm really looking forward to extracting my pound of flesh from your arse. And speaking of arses…"

Potter paused, tilting his head as he examined Draco more closely, his sharp-eyed stare cruelly appraising as it raked the length of Draco's crouched form.

"Do you know," Potter added thoughtfully, "I'd nearly forgotten how very _pretty_ you are under all that prison filth." His cruel grin morphed into a salacious leer, and his green eyes darkened. "I think I might just have to make you my fuck puppy as well. Once you've been trained up a bit, of course. Obedience first. Then reward."

Draco opened his mouth, but before he could even form the words to deny the possibility, Potter flicked his wand and mouthed an unfamiliar spell. Draco yelped as his body began to reform, his limbs shortening, his jaws lengthening. His teeth reshaped themselves into sharp points, while his fingernails hardened into claws. His bare skin prickled as hair sprouted and grew into a pale, fluffy coat. The emergence of a long, swishy tail sent him so off-balance that he collapsed onto the floor of the crate. A thousand dizzying new scents assaulted his nose at once, and a high, anxious whine emerged from his throat.

"You'll live in this form until you learn to how to be a proper, submissive bitch for your new Master. And then," Potter added, "I might let you be my human bitch from time to time. But from this point on…the wizard known as Draco Malfoy has ceased to exist."


End file.
